Watching Juliana struggle to get back up from the floor, I breathed a quiet sigh.
I knew this would happen.
Yet, a small part of me had hoped she would just stay down and accept her defeat.
But apparently not.
Shaking my head, I stepped toward her.
She looked paler than usual, her fair complexion marred by smears of blood from open cuts and stab wounds — wounds I had no doubt she had inflicted upon herself.
Strands of her snowy-white hair clung to her damp, bloodied face. And her arms trembled weakly as she forced herself back onto her feet.
By now, the effects of her Enhancement Cards should have been wearing off.
And she had seen my strength. She knew she couldn't match me in a direct fight.
Yet, despite the monumental odds stacked against her, she refused to stop. Refused to surrender. Refused to simply lay down.
"I admire your conviction, Juliana," I said, before kicking her in the gut. She let out a stifled cry and tumbled across the ground.
